


Cannot Hide This

by LouLa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The three of us, Liam. You, Harry, me, in one relationship. Not me and Harry and you separately, or Harry and you, or me and you. All three of us. Together.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannot Hide This

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from One Direction's  _Moments_ because I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Huge thanks for Boo for holding my hand and P for beta reading for me.

There are times that it's difficult for Harry to remember that Liam is truthfully one of his best mates. He never means for it to happen, but on occasion he just forgets that Liam is the sweetest, kindest person he's ever met. Sometimes, it's just so much easier to hate him.

The hardest part is that Liam doesn't even deserve it. Liam is honestly nothing more than a completely innocent bystander, but he gets dragged in against his will and Harry can't help misdirecting his screwed up feelings of hurt and anger toward him.

It's Louis. It's all Louis, always. Harry _knows_ that, but when Louis comes back, all smiles, bad jokes, and overly touchy, Harry forgives him instantly, without a second thought. Liam is the one who earns the residual tension, the short, snappish tone and the moody glares; Liam feels the brunt of Harry's lasting temper, not Louis.

Harry doesn't mean to, doesn't _want_ to treat Liam poorly when he _knows_ that Liam never wanted any of it, but it's him that Louis goes to every time they have a disagreement. It's a jealousy thing, and Louis knows it pisses Harry off, and that's exactly why he does it. Every time, Harry will see it coming without any idea how to stop it. Louis will press his buttons, bored and too obnoxious for one person to handle, and Harry will say something that gets Louis all bothered, worked up over absolutely _nothing_ , and Louis will leave, slamming the door behind him, and head straight for Liam's flat, to hang all over him, grin stupidly in his face, tuck himself right up close and just _laugh_. Which should make Harry happy, not having to deal with Louis' shit for a couple of hours, but it's not the touches or smiles that get to him so much, it's the look on Louis' face as he does it, the ' _someone else wants me_ ' and ' _do you see how easily I could have somebody else?_ ' that pisses Harry off.

It's not fair to Liam, not in the slightest, and Harry hates that he's involved, doesn't want for him to have to be, but at the same time, Harry wouldn't want it to be anyone else either. If it has to be someone, then Harry is glad it's Liam because no one else would be able to handle it. Liam is the most mature of them, the serious one, and he can cope with Harry's misguided outrage, can work his way through it gently to open Harry back up.

Niall would be so confused, wouldn't know what to do with Harry's indignation ― honestly, Harry can't even imagine being properly angry with Niall, he's too guileless and baby-faced. Zayn would take it all so personally. He'd get so _hurt_ and offended to be in the middle the way that Liam is. Not that Liam isn't confused too, or hurt; he is, Harry knows that. But Liam can handle it, where the other guys wouldn't know how to.

There's a knock on the door, and Harry looks up at it, dubious. None of them knock. It's a terrible habit that should probably have been corrected after the first couple of awkward incidents, but that's half the point. Knocking is only the polite thing to do, and between them, no one's willing to miss out an opportunity to catch each other doing something potentially humiliating for a nicety.

Harry goes to open it, partially shielding himself with the door just in case, but it's only Liam. He smiles carefully at Harry and Harry has to force out a tight smile in return. It's a bit more difficult to keep from making a biting remark about how Louis had just gone over to Liam's a few short hours ago, shouldn't Liam be there _with him?_

“Can I come in?” Liam asks hesitantly, his tone gentle.

Harry steps aside silently to let him in and closes the door with more force than is really necessary. They both stand there, awkward and stiff, saying nothing. Harry resolutely stares at the wall on the other side of the room and waits for Liam to say whatever he came over for.

“I left him at my place with Niall and Zayn. Hopefully they’ll wear each other out and won't trash it too horribly before they all pass out.”

Harry sort of gives up at that, tension draining out of his body and leaving him weak. He drags himself to the couch and flops down on it, sighing. It's so easy to forget that Liam never asks for any of this. Louis annoys him just as horribly as he annoys Harry, probably even more considering all the hell Louis makes him go through with Harry, after. Being silently pissed at Liam when he's two flats over is one thing, but trying to stay mad at him when he's looking at you with those completely guiltless, gentle eyes is something else entirely.

“I wouldn't count on it,” Harry says, propping a foot on the coffee table.

Liam sits beside him, still cautious and worried. “I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see right now,” he starts. His tone is void of blame, like it's just entirely _okay_ with him if Harry hates him for being nothing more than a good friend to Louis.

“No,” Harry says. It sounds as though he's trying to convince himself more so than Liam, and it only makes it worse when he repeats it again, with a shake of his head.

Liam looks as though he wants to say something, to finally broach the subject, but they never have before, and to start now doesn't seem all that wise. Harry still almost wishes he would, _wants_ Liam to call him on his shit, and to definitely call Louis on his, but Liam just shuts his mouth before any sound even makes it out and looks away, resigned.

“Okay, well. I was wondering if I could sleep here tonight? Zayn's flat smells and Niall never has any extra bedding,” he says in a way of explanation. “I, um, I don’t really want to go back to my flat right now.”

Harry falters, surprised. He clears his throat before he speaks, unsure of his voice. “Yeah, yeah, of course, Liam. Um. I'm sure Louis wouldn't mind you using his bed.”

The words nearly kill him to say, but he does so regardless, standing before he's even finished to escape to his own room, so he won't _punch_ Liam in the face.

“No! Harry, the couch. The couch is fine. I don't want... I don't want to sleep in Louis' bed.”

“Right,” Harry says curtly. He stops at the linen closet on his way, pulling out an extra pillow and blanket for Liam, though Harry doesn’t entirely believe he has any interest at all in sleeping on their couch. “Night,” he offers, dropping the covers onto the sofa despite Liam’s obvious move to reach out for them.

“Goodnight,” Liam replies meekly.

As Harry gets ready for bed, he waits for the telltale creak of floorboards across from his room that will give Liam away as he sneaks into Louis’ bedroom. It never comes. Harry brushes his teeth with his ear pressed to the bedroom door, but the only thing he hears is the distant squeak of leather when Liam shifts his position. Then silence. Nothing.

In the quiet, dark of his bedroom, Harry’s guilt starts to eat away at him. He’s sure Liam is still out in the living room, probably futilely trying to get comfortable on the too narrow, stiff couch. It’s so stupid that Harry reacts this way, every single time, when it’s _Liam_. Liam, who just wants to make everyone else happy, who cares more about the wants and needs of others than himself; Liam, who would literally give the shirt off of his back to someone in need.

Nothing about it is right.

Harry’s regretting treating Liam like shit. He can’t sleep, and he can barely give himself the chance to try, because he doesn’t even want to. He doesn’t want to go to sleep mad at Liam, especially when Liam doesn’t deserve it. There’s no way he can sleep knowing that Liam isn’t going to get much rest at all with that horrible couch as his bed.

Harry kicks back the blankets, frustrated with himself, and quickly pulls on a pair of pajamas before he quietly creeps out into the living room. He doubts Liam is asleep, but he whispers anyway, just to be safe. “Li.”

When he gets no reply, he takes another careful step forward, peering over the back of the sofa at Liam’s prone form. “Li,” he whispers again.

Liam glances over his shoulder, sees Harry leaning over him, and sits up quickly. “Do you want me to go? That’s fine, totally. I’ll crash at Niall’s. Can I borrow this stuff, just for the night? I’ll have it back–”

“Jesus, Liam, no!” Harry cuts him off sharply. Liam makes this sort of surprised, upset sound, almost the word ‘but’, just not quite, and Harry continues before Liam can misunderstand him further. “Just take Louis’ bed, alright? I’m sure he won’t be back tonight, and it’s fine. He’s not going to care, and I– I don’t care either.”

“Oh,” Liam breathes out, quiet and relieved. Harry tries not to react, or not to _overreact_ , at least. “That’s... Thanks, but no, thank you. This is fine, Haz, really.”

“It’s really not. No one even sleeps on this couch by accident, you know that.”

Liam sighs, giving Harry this sort of stressed out, intense stare that goes on forever. “It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry, just go get some sleep. I’m not sleeping in Louis' bed, so just forget about that.”

Harry’s mind is made as soon as the thought comes to him. Without bothering to voice his solution to Liam, Harry’s grabs his hand and pulls him up from the couch.

“W– What?” Liam protests mildly.

Harry doesn’t bother with a reply, and Liam keeps quiet and follows without fighting as Harry leads him down the hall toward his bedroom, much to Harry’s satisfaction. “Sleep,” Harry says gruffly, flopping carelessly back into his previously vacated spot in bed.

Harry keeps himself propped up on his elbows, waiting for Liam to get in. The bed is huge, and it’s not as though they’re doing anything they haven’t already in the past ― and those times that bed sharing had been necessary, they’d been in a much smaller room, with a much smaller mattress. It’s no big deal to Harry, and he’s too tired to wonder what the look on Liam’s face means.

“Liam,” he groans, tired and grumpy and still mixed up somewhere between loving and hating this big idiot that is staring at him with the most confused expression Harry’s ever seen.

The bed hardly even shifts when Liam crawls in. Harry drawls exaggeratedly, “Finally,” as he switches off the lights. He kicks around beneath the covers until he’s finally comfortable on his side facing Liam. “Go to sleep, you freak,” he grumbles, reaching over to flick ― what he hopes is ― the side of Liam’s head.

“Sweet dreams, Hazza,” he thinks he hears whispered into the darkness a few minutes later.

―

Harry wakes to someone bouncing on him. It’s not even remotely surprising to him as it’s the way he wakes most mornings ― one way or the other, sometimes more crudely than others. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Louis.

Harry groans his discontent into the pillow beneath his face. It’s meant to sound like _leave me alone, it’s too early for this shit_ but Louis never has been great at interpreting situations for what they really are.

“I knew you’d be happy to see me,” Louis croons into Harry’s ear, pulling his hair with these oddly comforting little tugs, right at the back of Harry’s head. He groans again. “Look at you and Liam all snuggled up in bed together. It’s giving me the warm fuzzies, seeing my two favorite boys in bed with each other.”

Harry lifts his head from the pillow and looks toward Liam. He’s not awake yet and he’s still right where he’d been when Harry had fallen asleep. They’re far from snuggling, at least an arm’s length separates them, but they are still in bed together, and for the briefest of moments, he wonders why Louis isn’t jealous.

He doesn’t dwell on it long, as he notices Liam’s open mouth, the darkened patch on the pillow beneath it, and feels the sweetest kick of satisfaction that Liam is drooling all over Louis’ half of the bed. Despite the slightly disgusting drool, he looks so sweet all curled up beneath the duvet. Harry’s content to just let him sleep, but, as usual, Louis has a different idea.

The slap is sudden and loud. Liam jerks awake, nearly falling right off the bed. Harry startles too, shocked at Louis’ unexpected movement. Liam stares at them, squinty-eyed and rubbing his sore cheek, for a few moments before he darts upright. One hand goes to his mouth, wiping the wet from his lips, while the other pats at his fluffy morning hair. His cheeks are flaming red, but Harry thinks it’s probably from being mashed against the pillow on one side, and Louis’ rude slap on the other, because he surely has nothing to blush about, why would he be embarrassed?

“Um,” he starts, glancing from Harry to Louis and back again.

“Morning, sunshine,” Louis crows eagerly, flinging himself across the bed to get at Liam, who is quick enough to avoid any more of Louis’ obnoxious behavior.

He stands beside the bed, watching nervously as Louis rights himself back on top of Harry, straddling his hips. “I should go,” he says finally. He turns to leave without another word, quickly slipping out of sight.

“That was awkward,” Louis states the obvious, loudly enough that Liam probably hears since he can’t have left _that_ quickly. “Maybe he thinks I was trying to have sex with you.”

Harry scoffs, turning his face back into his pillow to mumble, “You’re dressed. Or, well, you’ve got pants on, at least. And there’s a blanket between us, he’s not _that_ naive.”

“Oh, young Harry. That’s where you’re wrong. I am clearly trying to have sex with you right now.”

“You’re doing a piss poor job of it, I must say,” Harry grumbles, eyes rolling.

“Am I? Am I really?” Louis asks. His voice is breathy against Harry’s ear, and Harry represses a shudder.

“Yes, you really are an arsehole.”

Louis laughs into his ear, and the sound alone raises the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck. He knows by now that sound, _that laugh_ means nothing but trouble. And yet he doesn’t put up much of a fight at all when Louis tries to pin him, only enough to make it look real.

“I’ll show you an arsehole,” Louis says, flinging the duvet to the floor and removing Harry’s pajamas just as quickly.

―

After Harry’s showered and dressed, he easily makes the way from his own flat to Liam’s. As usual, he doesn’t bother knocking before he walks in.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see ― a mess maybe, from the boys being wild there the night before, Niall passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor, Liam cleaning, something, but the last thing he expects is to find Liam sat on the couch with a jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and the mopiest expression Harry’s ever seen. His lips smack stickily as he sucks more peanut butter from the spoon, leaning his head onto his free hand, staring at absolutely nothing at all.

Harry takes a deep breath before he steps into the room. “Did one of your turtles die?” he asks carefully. He really hopes not, Liam is so attached to those things.

Liam startles, eyes going huge as he hastily shoves the spoon into the jar of peanut butter and hides it behind the lamp on the end table next to him, like Harry wouldn’t notice.

“Harry, hey. What? No. No. Hey. What’s up?” Liam blurts. He rubs his hands down his shirt first, then down his legs, like he always does when he’s nervous.

Harry sits down warily, watching Liam’s fidgety hands pick at the seams of his trousers. “Nothing, just stopped by to make sure you didn’t have a huge mess to clean up. Is everything okay, Liam?” There’s no segue to be found there, but Harry can’t honestly give a shit.

“Fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine, actually. They didn’t even break anything.”

Had Harry not walked in on Liam looking so dejected, he might have believed the smile he puts on to be the real thing, but from up close, Harry can tell it’s off. It just doesn’t quite make it the whole way to his eyes.

“Liam,” Harry starts. He inhales, thinking of what to say, and frowns. “You really smell like peanut butter.”

Liam’s fake smile drops into this self-loathing sort of grimace and he chuckles humorlessly, licking his lips. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No need to be sorry,” Harry says, scooting across the couch to sit closer to Liam's side. He reaches around Liam for the jar he stashed by the lamp and loads the spoon up for himself. “But most people who are _fine_ don't sit about on their sofa eating peanut butter by the spoonful.”

Liam's cheeks redden slightly and he looks away, biting his lip. Harry doesn't take his eyes off of him, curious. The peanut butter is the gross, low-sugar kind ― because Liam is actually an old man, apparently ― but Harry eats it anyway, making the most disgusting noises that he can to purposely irritate Liam.

“Is it about this morning?” Harry prompts. He's determined to find out what is bothering his friend, and Liam clearly isn't going to spill it on his own.

Harry's surprised when Liam grows visibly uneasy at the mention of that morning. He didn't actually think it had anything to do with what had happened, because Louis was always smacking Liam ― which Harry has never really understood, but that was often the case when it came to Louis ― and surely Liam wouldn't take it personally.

He laughs then, suddenly realizing _why_ Liam is discomforted. “Oh, God,” he groans, shaking his hair out of his eyes and glancing at his friend. “You weren't gone yet, were you?”

Liam reddens further and blinks about four times before his eyes dart toward Harry and then away again. Harry laughs harder. “Jesus, you heard him eating me out. That's fucking embarrassing.”

It's not, really. He doesn't care. Well, it's a little embarrassing considering the stupidly desperate sounds he makes whenever Louis does _that_ but it's not as if Liam's never heard them going at it before ― tour buses aren't exactly the most private of places to get off. He wonders if Liam came back and saw them, or if he could just hear Harry's needy whimpers; he wonders how long Liam stayed, long enough to hear Harry come, or longer yet to hear Louis say, “Fucking fuck, just suck me off already, Haz, open up,” ― to hear Louis using Liam's nickname for Harry in such a filthy way.

Harry snorts, loading up the spoon once more and shoving it into his mouth. He moves to lean around Liam to put the peanut butter back on the table, but decides to press his mouth to Liam's face instead of leaning away.

Liam jerks back, startled. His hands come to Harry's chest, trying to shove him off, but Harry only presses closer, kissing messily over Liam's cheek. He's half on top of Liam, practically in his lap with his hands twisted tightly into Liam's shirt, rubbing his mouth along Liam's jaw, laughing, when their lips accidentally line up.

Harry should pull away. He knows that; it's the first thought that pops into his mind once it happens, but he doesn't. Liam goes still, probably waiting for Harry to finally give up, but Harry kisses him.

And just like that, they aren't playing around anymore. Liam pushes Harry away from him harshly and stands abruptly, leaving Harry in a heap against the cushions.

Liam looks at Harry just once before he walks away, and the expression on his face is so _hurt_ that Harry can't even make a joke. He can't laugh it off like he'd meant to, or call Liam a serious Payne-in-the-arse. Instead, he's left there staring after the line of his friend's tense shoulders.

He doesn't know what to do. Liam may be the serious one of them, but he can take a joke. He's got a sense of humor and he's not like _this_ , never has been before. They only ever apologize when things go really wrong and someone does end up getting hurt, and this doesn't feel like it's supposed to be one of those times. Harry doesn't know how he could have hurt Liam, but the pain on his face had been unmistakable. Maybe he'd unintentionally kneed Liam in the bollocks, or just disgusted him that horribly, Harry doesn't know.

Confused, he walks back over to his and Louis' flat. He's unsurprised to find Louis asleep in his own bed, and he goes to wash his face before he strips off and climbs in with him. He straddles Louis' hips and braces his hands on the bare skin of his stomach. He jostles Louis when he doesn't open his eyes.

“You're going to make me pee on you,” Louis whines.

“Kinky,” Harry replies, moving his hands lower to press harder at Louis' tummy.

Louis pinches Harry's thigh ― hard ― in retaliation and Harry jerks away from the pain, and then settles back against Louis' lap with a sigh, still waiting for Louis to open his damn eyes.

“I know that sigh,” Louis says, cracking one eye open to peek at Harry. He opens the other soon after, and Harry must look pretty bad because Louis is instantly concerned. “Hey, what is it, Hazza?”

Harry frowns at the use of that name, mind consumed with the image of Liam's hurt face. “I kissed Liam,” he whispers, squinting at Louis when it comes out like a question.

Louis simply stares back at him, rubbing his hands up and down Harry's thighs comfortingly. “Okay,” he says after a few quiet moments. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Harry sighs again, distractedly chewing at his lower lip. “I– I didn't think it would be. It was just a joke, but he... he.” Harry shakes his head, unsure of what to say. “He acted weird.”

Louis' hands still then, stopping to rest against Harry's upper thighs. He squeezes once and then nudges Harry off him. “I have to pee too much to have this conversation right now.”

Harry groans as he falls over sideways to the bed and wraps himself up in the duvet to wait. Louis takes his time and doesn't return for nearly ten minutes, a bowl of cereal balanced in his hand.

He sits cross-legged on the bed beside Harry and shovels a spoonful into his mouth before he mutters, “Tell me exactly what happened,” around the mouthful.

So Harry does.

―

Everything's awkward after that. Harry's never ― _not ever_ ― felt uncomfortable around any of them, but suddenly, he can't sit still or meet Liam's eyes. It's not like Liam's any better as he's actively trying to avoid Harry just as much as Harry's secretly trying to avoid him. The downside is that they are both horribly obvious, though Harry guesses that Liam is trying to be as inconspicuous about it as he is. Maybe Harry is really overreacting about the whole thing ― Louis thinks he is ― but if that's the case, then Liam is as well, because even when he's trying to act normal, he's far from _normal_.

The worst part is that Louis has turned into this completely obnoxious hornball. It's not that he wasn't that before, but now he's even worse, especially when Liam's around. At first, Harry was certain that it was jealousy, despite Louis' insistence that it was really no big deal because so what, Harry kisses people sometimes. It was just a kiss, and it's not like it even meant anything. It didn't, or it wasn't supposed to at least, but it kind of did. Obviously. If it hadn't meant anything, they wouldn't have to be dealing with this horrible awkwardness.

It's not jealousy, though, Harry comes to realize, because just as often as Louis is kissing Harry in front of Liam, groping him and generally being a fucking horny bastard; he's also pushing Harry toward Liam, getting them alone together. It doesn't make sense, and it's so painfully uncomfortable that Harry has no idea what to do.

Harry's the jealous one. It's been made obvious time and time again. But it's not like Louis doesn't get jealous too. He does, usually at the strangest moments, when Harry's not even _doing_ anything. This isn’t one of those times. It's more like Louis has decided to make a game of it, to push Liam and Harry to the brink, to see which of them will break first. It's got to the point where Harry can't even be in the same room as Liam without it feeling hard to breathe, like the room's so stuffed full of tension that there's no space for air.

The others have noticed, but if they've said anything, Harry hasn't heard about it yet. They stick with Liam, mostly, follow him out of the room with disgusted eyerolls and comments about Harry and Louis needing to get over their honeymoon phase already.

It's not as if Harry simply spreads his legs and lets Louis go for it, either. The problem is that Louis is annoyingly persistent and when he wants something, he generally gets his way. It would take, well... someone much, much stronger than Harry to resist Louis when he's determined.

“Want you flat on your stomach, rutting against the bed while I fuck you. Want you to get the bed all messy with your come.”

Harry huffs out a shaky breath, eyes darting in Liam's direction unintentionally as Louis whispers in his ear.

They're supposed to be watching a film, but Harry all of a sudden can't remember what it's about or even if he was liking it before Louis started in on his filthy talk.

“Won't even let you use your hands, I'll fuck it right out of you.”

Harry groans, completely involuntarily, and the sound is stuck somewhere between being exasperated and helplessly turned on. He shoves Louis away from him as much as he can and puts one of the throw pillows in his lap to block Louis' next attempt to get into his pants ― which he has no doubt is imminent.

The plot of what they're watching is lost to Harry. Something explodes on screen, and he watches indifferently as a female character cries. He's not sure who she is or if he's supposed to feel bad about what's happening. Harry grows bored of it quickly and lets Louis fit himself up against his side, under his arm. Harry looks Liam's way again. He doesn't really mean to, but he can't help it either; it's like he suddenly has to be aware of where Liam is at all times. He's surprised when he catches Liam's eye, but it lasts just a second before Liam flits his stare back at the television.

It only takes another five minutes for Louis to try slipping his hand into Harry's trousers, and Harry's squirming and muttered warnings draw everyone's attention.

Liam is the first to get fed up with it ― he usually is, lately. “Give it a rest,” he hears grumbled as Liam walks past, out the door.

Harry wants to get up and follow him, to finally confront him about what's going on. It never used to be like this. Liam never got so visibly bothered by Louis' shameless public displays of affection in the past. Harry just wants to know what's changed.

“You two are not fucking in my flat,” Zayn warns sharply.

Louis leaves one last sloppy kiss to the side of Harry's neck before he pulls away. “The sex smell would freshen it up in here a bit, honestly. And I think what you meant to say is that we're not fucking here _again_.”

Harry clamps his hand over Louis' mouth about a quarter of a second too late. Louis laughs from behind Harry's hand, while Harry rushes to assure Zayn that Louis is just joking ― he's not, which Harry's sure Zayn knows. Niall is laughingly holding a mostly jokingly irritated Zayn back, and Louis pries Harry's fingers off of his mouth easily enough, yelling out a _laters_ as he drags Harry off the couch and out the door.

He pulls Harry behind him down the corridor, shifting them so Harry's in front and Louis is pressing him on from behind, impossibly close, once they've rounded the corner.

“You are such a twat,” Harry laughs, gasping when Louis spins him around and pushes him up against their door.

“You love my twat,” Louis says, and Harry means to groan, but it comes out as a laugh anyway.

Louis kisses him mid-laugh, pushed up on his toes to reach, and Harry opens up for him, really groaning this time, when Louis angles Harry's head lower.

They're not even inside yet, Louis hasn't so much as taken the key out to open the door, but he's flicking the button on Harry's trousers loose already, reaching inside.

“Louis,” Harry hisses. “Lou, for fuck's sake, not out here.”

But Louis' got him in hand already, the pad of his thumb circling over the very tip while the rest of his hand works down the length of him. He uses every trick he knows to get Harry to shut up, and it works flawlessly for Louis. He's got Harry where he wants him, like putty in his hands.

Harry sags back to lean his weight on the door behind him, biting his lip to hold in the whimper Louis twists out of him. Louis pushes forward, bracketing Harry's thigh between his, and fucks the bulge in his jeans up against Harry's hip, stripping Harry off ruthlessly.

“You're going to come, and then I'm going to put you to bed and make you come again,” Louis whispers, words dripping with promise. Harry bites down harder on his lip.

Movement on the fringe of Harry's line of sight catches his attention, and he sees Liam before Liam's noticed them. Harry jerks up into the hold of Louis' hand, cursing, drawing Liam's eyes to them.

Harry means to tell Louis to stop immediately, but the words get stuck in his throat when Liam doesn't look away. Where they're standing, Harry and Louis are covered by mostly darkness. What they're doing is obvious, even from a distance, Harry has no doubt, but Liam wouldn't be able to see everything ― wouldn't be able to see that Harry's noticed him, wouldn't be able to see Harry's cock leaking pre-come into Louis' fist. But Liam is bathed in light, obvious, even as he backs off just the slightest bit. He never looks away from them.

“Lou,” Harry forces past his lips. “Louis, wait, just–” He cuts off with a gasp, head thumping back against the door when Louis bites down on his neck. It hurts, fucking stings, and there's going to be a nasty bruise there, but it pushes Harry over the edge, coming with his eyes still locked on Liam. “Fuck,” he grunts.

Liam is still there; further off, but still there. Close enough that Harry can see him, see the way he grips at himself through his trousers.

Louis unlocks the door, holds Harry up as he stumbles inside, shaking and confused. Harry's in Louis' arms when Lou flicks the lights on, illuminating Harry, making it obvious to Liam in the distance that Harry's looking right at him.

The door closes, kicked shut by Louis who's holding Harry tightly to him, squeezing his arse and rubbing up against his oversensitive dick. Harry blinks away the brown eyes and looks into blue ones.

“Liam was out there,” Harry says.

Louis pulls back slightly, meeting Harry's eyes properly. His features kind of twist, and then he asks, “Was he?”

To Harry's ears, it's too innocent. He blinks and searches Louis' face for something, a sign, a giveaway. He wants to ask, _Did you know he was there?_ but Louis is pushing him toward the bedroom. Harry's knees are still weak with confusion and the orgasm that was ripped from him, and Louis keeps him moving down the hall. Unfocused, Harry's forced to keep himself standing by leaning into Louis and using the walls for support; his mind feels like it's being torn, going in two different directions, neither of the paths very clear.

Louis' bedroom is closer and he guides them in, easily shoving Harry to the bed. He climbs atop Harry and yanks his shirt over his head before he stands again and jerks Harry's trousers and pants from his body.

“Arse in the air, love,” Louis says as he strips his own clothes off.

Harry complies, rolling onto his stomach with his knees beneath him just enough to spread him open. Louis groans, drops to the bed between Harry's legs, and thumbs over Harry's hole, making him shudder.

Harry closes his eyes and sees Liam; he instantly opens them again and stares straight ahead at the wall. He feels dirty, body all messed up with confusion over what happened. It'd been an accident; it never should have happened.

To Harry, it feels like Liam's been there, with him and Louis, since that stupid inadvertent kiss. It started there, and it's gone all the way to the point of Liam _actually_ being there while Harry got off. It feels like he's with them now, right in bed with them as Louis works Harry open with his fingers.

Harry tries to shake off the feeling, glancing back over his shoulder to see Louis ― _just Louis_ ― behind him, tonguing over his teeth while he fucks his way into Harry's body one finger at a time.

“Lou,” Harry moans.

He's hard already, aching with it despite coming so recently. He pushes back into Louis' hand shamelessly, feels the sticky-wet between his stomach and the bed where his cock is dripping messily.

He blushes, hot all over, when he thinks of Liam being able to see him like this. He wonders what Liam would do ― would he be surprised at how desperate Harry is, would he like it, would he want to touch, take over, fit his fingers into Harry's body alongside Louis'?

Harry whines high in his throat, needy and terrified. He looks over his shoulder again, sees Louis, and turns the monologue in his head into nothing but _Louis Louis Louis_. Just Louis.

It's easier to clear his mind once Louis pushes into him. Familiar and exactly what he needs, the only one who's ever been in him _this_ way. Louis is everything, and has been for so long now.

Louis settles right in, nuzzles up behind Harry's ears and breathes his damp breaths there. It makes Harry shiver, happy and warm, but not so fever-hot like his skin could melt off. He sucks the air into his lungs, filling himself completely with _Louis_ , the smell of him and them, together, musk, and the feel of him moving so deep inside.

“Good?” Louis asks, kissing the tops of Harry's shoulders.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. He nods loosely and arches into Louis' next thrust, closing his eyes to really feel himself being opened up around Louis.

“You liked Liam watching,” Louis says.

Harry tenses and drops his face into his arms. _No, no, no,_ he thinks, squirming away from the idea, from Louis bringing it up.

Louis braces a hand on Harry's hip and holds him flat to the bed as he fucks into Harry more quickly.

“It's okay. It's alright, Haz. Just think about it. Do you want him here now, watching?” Harry hisses, shaking his head and pulling at his own hair. “Shh, I just want you to think about it. What do you want Liam to do? Do you want him to touch you? He could hold you down for me, spread you open so I could go deeper. Do you want him to kiss you? He could suck on your fingers or lick right over that tender spot on your neck. Do you want his hand around your cock? No, no. If he was here right now, you'd want him beneath you, so you could rub up against his stomach, his cock, come all over that soft, silky skin.”

Harry cries out, hopelessly lost to Louis' words, the insistent press of his cock inside, making Harry shake until he spills over.

“God, yes,” Louis moans. His hips snap and roll, harder than before, pushing Harry into the softness of the bed, right into the wet warmth of his come. It feels good, too good, too much, on the point of hurting, the way his dick catches on the soiled fabric. Then Louis slows, holds himself deep as his cock pulses warmth through Harry's body.

And Louis, he's always been too curious, likes to watch things, make them happen, just to see. He sits back on his knees after pulling out of Harry's body, and he spreads Harry apart, watches as his come slips from Harry's body down his balls, dripping to make the bed messier yet. His nail catches on Harry's sore rim when he thumbs inside, forcing more of it out, and he simply pats Harry's arse at the sound of his pained hiss.

“Do you think Liam would lick you clean if we asked him to?”

Harry full-body shivers, trembling all over, still not fully recovered. He sobs as his clenches up tight around Louis' crooked thumb.

“Don't,” he pleads. “Please, don't.”

Louis withdraws his hand and lays himself flat against Harry's back, arms looped under Harry's chest. He holds him tightly, nodding into the back of Harry's neck. “No more,” he promises. “No more for tonight.”

―

Louis keeps his word and they don't speak of what happened that night. The next morning comes and the memory weighs heavy on Harry's mind, dream-like in quality. He almost can't believe it wasn't something he'd fabricated in his sleep. It feels so unreal.

Harry's not going to be the one to bring it up, and he's not entirely surprised that Louis doesn't either.

They're normal. Everything is just as it was, except now Harry has Liam on his mind even more than he did before. He doesn't know if it's more unsettling that Louis _knows_ or if it would be worse if he didn't.

It feels like cheating, to want someone else. But it's not as though Harry just wants Liam; he wants Louis too, _needs_ Louis. It scares him, frankly. It had been hard enough wanting his best friend the way he did before he and Louis were together. He feels abnormal for wanting Liam the same way, for wanting _everything_ from his closest mates.

He wants to talk to Louis about it, to get it out there, but he's afraid too. He thinks that Louis should be jealous, would have a right to be. Harry knows he'd be jealous if it was Louis openly wanting Liam this way. Maybe he does. He's the one who brought it up, after all, so he must want it too. But it feels okay, somehow. Like it's alright because he knows that Louis wants Liam for Harry, not for himself. Wants them all together.

Harry doesn't know. His mind's a muddled mess and nothing makes the slightest bit of sense ― not his wants, or his thoughts, or his feelings. It's all too much.

“Drinkies!”

Harry looks up and Louis is hanging half out the door, shouting down the corridor. Texting would have been easier, more effective, but it's Louis and he's never happy unless he's doing something stupid.

Harry settles back against the couch, chewing at his cuticles. He tells himself to stop, it's a gross habit, but he can't help it when he's nervous.

Niall is the first to show, pushing his way past Louis who's blocking the doorway like a twat. Zayn waves as he walks by, says he'll go get Liam.

Harry does force himself to keep his fingers from his mouth then. He tries to sit still, tries not to fidget, but his knee bounces and his toe taps. Niall ― bless him ― brings Harry a drink, and Harry downs it in one go.

Niall finds that hilarious and Harry's eyes dart to Louis, find him leaning against the wall, watching Harry. Harry blushes and stands to get a refill, but quickly sits back down when the door opens to admit Zayn and Liam. Louis raises an eyebrow, clearly amused at how flustered Harry is.

He's so _nervous_ and he doesn't even know why. He just wants to act normal and can't seem to no matter how hard he tries. It's so stupid. It's _Liam_ , the boy who still gets nervous and shy around them about certain things, he'd never say anything about what happened in front of the other boys, probably wouldn't say anything about it ever. It's not like Harry has anything to be embarrassed about anyway. Liam had been the one to stand there watching them ― Liam didn't know anything else had happened, couldn't have any idea about the thoughts Harry had then and later on. Harry's not about to give himself away.

He swallows down his ridiculous unease and stands up, smiling as he normally would at Zayn and Liam. Liam's cheeks go pink, but Harry ignores that. “Hey, boys. Grab a drink.”

Harry slips around the backside of the table, next to Louis to mix up another drink. He hip-checks Louis out of his way and snorts when Louis spanks him for it. Across the room, someone coughs, but Harry doesn't look up to see who. The grip he has on his control is delicate at best, he's not about to risk it by catching Liam's eye again so soon.

Zayn and Louis are talking nonsense, and Harry sticks to Louis' side, just because it's easier that way than potentially getting left semi-alone with Liam. He's not really paying attention to their conversation, but he's pretending to be, and that takes up just enough effort.

Niall wanders over eventually, which leaves Liam somewhere alone. Harry starts to inject his own thoughts into their rambling, just so Louis won't catch on and try to make him go entertain Liam.

No one really notices besides Harry when Liam joins them. He says nothing, and quietly sorts through the bottles on the table, reading some of the labels. As is usual lately, Harry is hyper-aware of his presence, stiffening slightly before reminding himself to relax.

Louis must feel Harry's reaction though, as he wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder, squeezing him closer and rubbing his shoulder slowly. His hand moves further up, massaging softly as he goes, and then his thumb is unexpectedly pressing harshly into the bruise he'd left with his teeth the night before.

Harry hisses, jerking away. The talking stops abruptly, and then Niall is laughing, choking out, “Jesus, what'd you do to his neck, Tommo?”

“Should see the rest of him,” Louis bluffs easily. He takes a sip from his cup and raises his eyebrows at Harry's betrayed expression.

“I _don't_ want to hear about it,” Zayn groans, half raising his hands towards his ears already in case Louis decides to reveal the sordid details of their night.

Harry's heart jumps up into his throat at the possibility. The tenuous hold he had on his nerves is shot. Blushing, he gulps down what's left of his drink and immediately turns to fill another. He doesn't think of having to face Liam before he turns, but then he's right there, eye to eye with Harry.

Harry wants to kiss him. Liam smiles stiffly, and Harry wants to lick the smile right off his face. He wants to see Liam's lips puffy and bruised, slick and shiny with spit. He wants to push Liam across the room, lay him flat out across the couch, fit himself right into the space between Liam's thighs, and kiss him until everything's changed, until it's right.

Liam's the one who's supposed to be fixing everything. But he's doing nothing; he does nothing but stare at Harry for the briefest of moments then turns away. Harry wants things to go back to the way they were before, when he kind of hated Liam, would have rather hit him in the face than kiss him, back when Liam so easily wriggled his way back into Harry's good graces with the sweetest of smiles and the softest of words.

Now Liam doesn't even talk to him, and Harry wouldn't know what to say if he tried. They haven't talked since the kiss, not really. There's been nothing more than the occasional muttered word within the awkward stretches of silence since that day.

So maybe Harry's wrong for wanting to snog Liam silly. Clearly Liam thinks so. Maybe that's just it ― Liam isn't interested in him. That pisses Harry off, really, because it's not fair. He's seen how Liam looks at Louis sometimes, and Harry just _wants_ Liam to look at him like that too.

Harry pours another drink, angry and bitter, and swallows that one too fast too. He's going for another when there's a hand at the small of his back, stopping him.

“Hey, slow down,” Louis says, concern evident in his voice. “You're going to make yourself sick.” And that's kind of the point right now. He just wants to forget how ridiculously obsessed he is with Liam, and Liam's stupid face, and his stupid mouth, stupid voice and hair and legs and birthmark. “Go get some food, alright?”

Harry does just that, leaving his cup behind, and not just because Louis told him to. Three drinks in under an hour is going to hit him hard.

He slams his way around the kitchen, drops a frying pan to the stove, slams the cupboards, rattles his way noisily through the fridge. He's a bit lost in his own world, and it makes him jump when he's being forcefully pushed back, back, back, until he's up against the wall.

Louis pins him there, a solid weight on Harry's chest for him to shake against. Harry struggles just a little, twisting, defiant, but Louis holds him harder, fingers bruising his flesh where they're gripping his waist tightly.

“It's not fucking fair,” Harry snaps quietly into Louis' ear. His voice doesn't need to be loud for all the hurt and confusion and frustration to seep into the tone; he sounds _mean_ , even at just a whisper. “I know how he looks at you. You do too, it's why I get so jealous. He _wants_ you, he always has. But he won't even fucking look at me. He won't talk to me. Why doesn't he want me?”

Harry growls and grinds his teeth, breathing raggedly into Louis' hair. Louis says nothing, just somehow manages to hold Harry tighter yet, the wall a cool line down the heat of his tense back. Something's broken inside of him, damaged from holding this all in for too long. It's all coming out now. They should have talked about it earlier, right away. It never would have come to this if they'd have just talked this morning. But Louis must not have realized just how deep it runs for Harry, how much it's all bothering him. Harry didn't even realize it himself.

“I want him. I want him so fucking much. And he wants you. I need him to want me like he wants you, Lou. I need him to want us both.”

“So stop being shy, Hazza. You weren't shy for me, don't clam up on him. Show him what he can have,” Louis whispers back, sounding almost angry with intensity.

Harry inhales sharply at Louis' final sentence. He has to know if he means it, if he really means what he's said, and when Harry catches his eye, he can see it there.

“Yeah?” Harry asks.

Louis nods. “Yeah. If it's what you want, then yes. The three of us.”

Harry's almost certain it's not the best idea to decide this now, while they're intoxicated, but can't honestly give a fuck. He feels giddy and light-headed, and he loves Louis so much he can hardly breathe. Harry kisses him, and it's surprisingly gentle despite the fact that Louis still has him pressed painfully to the wall.

“Your sandwich is burning,” Louis says into Harry's mouth.

It confuses him for a second, 'til he registers the sound of the frying pan sizzling and the smell of bread getting burned black.

“Shit,” he curses, hastily flipping the sandwich over. It's not too bad, he can scrape it off.

Louis' fingers trail along Harry's lower back as he walks by, back to entertaining their small crowd. “Remember what I said,” he reminds with a significant look in Harry's direction.

Harry eats his grilled cheese with a glass of milk, and wonders if he'll regret it later, if he's throwing up. He's done with the heavy drinking for the night and grabs a beer from the fridge, decides to sip on that for a while.

The boys are all crowded into the living room, Niall and Zayn in the recliners with their feet up and their drinks hanging precariously from their fingertips. Louis is sprawled across most of the couch, his head pillowed on Liam's thigh. Harry could sit on top of Louis, push his legs out of the way and sit normally on the couch, or sit on the floor, he supposes, but there's a small gap between Liam and the other end of the sofa, and Harry hesitates before he moves to sit there.

It's a tight fit, but he works his way into the space, feeling the heat of Liam's body all down his side, and Harry lets his leg rest over the top of Liam's, thighs and knees overlapping. Liam seems uncomfortable at first. He shifts around, but stills when Louis makes a noise of complaint. He brings his arm from where it had been along the back of the sofa between them, and then realizes how much worse that makes it and puts it back, stretched out awkwardly away from Harry's body.

Uncertainty sinks in quickly, the small amount of confidence he'd managed to work up slipping away at Liam's obvious rejection. Harry looks down to Louis, catches his eye, and Louis widens his own encouragingly, tilting his head subtly in Liam's direction.

Harry sighs and leans back, settling into the cushions and Liam's warmth. He rests his head back against Liam's arm and then snuggles closer yet, lets his head get comfortable on Liam's shoulder. He meets Louis' eyes again, feeling slightly emboldened by the smug smile Louis gives him before he looks toward the television, laughing loudly at something that happens, along with Niall and Zayn.

Liam and Harry stay quiet, while the other lads talk over the sound of whatever they're watching, laughing with stupid enthusiasm every time anything remotely funny happens. It feels right; it feels normal.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, turning his head slightly to get closer to Liam's ear.

Liam glances at Harry, an almost startled look on his face, and looks straight ahead again just as quickly. Harry doesn't look away, and he sees Liam's Adam's apple bob when he swallows and his mouth open as he hesitates, then whispers back, “Hey.” He turns toward Harry just slightly, an unsure smile curving his lips.

Harry returns the smile with a wide one of his own. “Haven't talked much recently,” he says. He feels Liam's shoulder tense behind his head, and he waits to see if Liam will reply or not ― Harry's sure Liam has no interest in broaching the subject of the tension that's been between them, or why it's there, but they've got to start somewhere.

Harry can feel the twitch of his muscles, hear his nails picking at the fabric of the cushions behind their head, and that's Liam's tell. He fidgets so horribly when he's nervous or anxious. “No, it's been a while, hasn't it?” he replies finally, his voice forced into something that's indifferent and calm.

Harry nearly glances at Louis for reassurance again, but then he shakes the impulse off. Instead, he turns his face into Liam's shoulder, drapes an arm over his waist, shifts himself closer, and whispers, “Missed you, Li,” into Liam's neck.

Eventually, Liam brings his arm around Harry, pulls him in the slightest bit more and squeezes his hand around Harry's ribcage. “Missed you too, Haz.”

Harry hums happily and stays right where he is, letting his eyes fall closed to just bask in the warmth, the closeness.

He really has missed Liam. Even though before he spent half of his time pissed off at him, he's missed having Liam there for him whenever he needed him. For a second, he feels the uncertainty build again, wondering _what if_ ― _what if_ it doesn't work, _what if_ it messes everything up, _what if_ Liam doesn't ever talk to him again.

But then he thinks _what if_ ― _what if_ everything works out perfectly, and Liam will be a part of them, an intricate piece to their complex puzzle. He'd always be there, _theirs_ , and Harry would have him around all the time.

The thought doesn't frighten him, having Liam with them constantly, part of their relationship. Maybe it should, maybe he hasn't really considered exactly what it would mean, for all of them, but right now, he wants nothing more. He thinks that if he had both Louis and Liam, he'd never want for anything else ever again.

It's not that Louis isn't enough. Louis is great, and, most of the time, Harry couldn't be happier. Sure, Louis gets on his nerves ― Louis is loud and obnoxious and he just doesn't know when to quit, he gets on _everyone's_ nerves. Harry loves him, unconditionally, without end or expiration. Louis is enough; he's more than enough, frankly, but Harry can't help feeling greedy.

He loves Liam too. Like a friend, but also like someone that could be more, given the chance. Harry thinks, _knows_ that he could fall in love with Liam, there's no doubt in his mind. There's always been something there, it just never had the chance to build itself as Louis had put himself out front and never backed down. Louis was the one that demanded attention from the start, distracting Harry from everyone else. Without Louis, Liam probably would have had his chance. He and Harry have always been close, something special between them, Harry just never realized how deeply those feelings ran. Harry can't remember a time since meeting Liam, besides the past days, that he and Liam went willingly without speaking for any length of time. Even when Harry was being a prat, he got over it quickly enough to be sure not to actually start missing his Liam.

And maybe it's been the problem from the very start, this thing between them. Maybe it's the fact that they all belong together that Harry gets jealous. Maybe this is what he's been waiting for all along.

Or perhaps Harry is just drunk.

He drops his hand from Liam's waist to Louis' face, fingers dancing over his high cheekbones and stubbled jaw and smiling lips. It's strangely arousing, just to be cuddled half in Liam's lap while touching Louis. It's what he wants to be able to do ― have Louis right there, right with him, close, at the same time that he's touching Liam, simply snuggling, or snogging, or shagging.

Louis nips at Harry's fingertips, startling him. He flits his fingers away from Louis' mouth, up to his fringe, skating over it just enough to leave it a bit messy.

“Harry,” Louis warns darkly.

It doesn't even matter that they're staying in, that no one but them will see Louis' hair. Everyone messes up Harry's hair ― he messes it up most often himself ― but no one will dare to touch Louis'. Louis is ridiculously uptight about his hair, and none of them are brave enough to fuck with it, except Harry, who's feeling reckless and clumsy.

Louis must see the smirk that plays across Harry's lips because he tries to pull away before Harry can do the damage, but he's too late and Harry's fingers rake through his hair, breaking up the product in it and making it stand up in weird places.

“You little shit,” Louis says, incredulous, and Harry curls in closer to Liam's side when Louis rolls over, starts moving closer.

Louis crawls right over the top of Liam and Harry squeaks embarrassingly when Louis' fingers dig into his ribs, tickling. When Louis tickles, it's the farthest thing from fun. He's relentless and mean about it, digging his fingers into armpits and under shirts. Harry has no chance at all, despite Liam's protective arm curling around him, his cautionary, “Hey, hey, hey.”

Louis gets a grip on one of Harry's thighs and pulls him half on top of Liam, holds him down and goes in for the kill, somehow getting his hands under Harry's shirt easily. Harry's curled in on himself, his hands tucked tight under his armpits in defense. They're both squirming and jerking around so hard it's a miracle they don't topple right to the floor. Louis doesn't keep at it for too long, thankfully, but Harry still has tears of laughter in his eyes when he's finished.

“Bastard,” Louis grumbles.

Harry wraps his legs around Louis' hips before he can pull away, and Louis gives him the eyebrow, the one that says ' _oh really?_ ' He grins wickedly, and Harry realizes just how brilliant he is when a few short moments later Louis is making out with him in Liam's lap.

“Um,” Liam says, flustered, if his restlessly shifting legs beneath Harry are anything to go by.

The other boys are laughing, joking, saying, “Oh, man, Liam, you're going to be stuck there all night,” and, “Hope you like gay porn, dude, because it's about to happen right on top of you.”

Louis doesn't fight fair, and his tongue is in Harry's mouth, making him forget almost everything else instantaneously. The nail of his thumb scratches along the bruise at Harry's throat and Harry moans, cock jerking in his pants at the feeling.

Louis pulls away, triumphant, and Harry glowers before he jolts upright after him and shoves his hands into Louis' hair, messing it completely. Harry laughs at the shocked look on Louis' face, and Louis falls onto him startlingly fast. Harry shrieks, still laughing, but then Louis' at his neck, the unmarked side, and he bites right into the junction of Harry's shoulder. He's cut off mid-laugh, head tilting back as his hips jolt up unbidden. The moan that comes out of his mouth is embarrassing, and everyone quiets. Harry feels his face flame up, hot, knowing they've all just learned something about him that he'd never intended them to find out.

“You guys, seriously,” Liam squeaks.

Harry looks up at him, dazed, sees his face is just as red as Harry feels. Harry pushes at Louis' shoulder and Louis sits back, pulling at the collar of Harry's shirt to see the teethmarks he left. Louis scratches over it, and it's raw, sore. The feeling makes Harry shudder and Louis' smirk widens.

“Don't cream your pants, Hazza,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear him. His hand goes to the placket of Harry's trousers, palming the obvious erection there.

Nobody's laughing. They've all gone uncomfortably quiet, and Harry raises his eyes to Louis, fully intending to silently beg him to stop, but when Lou catches his eye, he glances toward Liam, and Harry follows. Liam's eyes are fixed on Louis' hand, his bottom lip clasped firmly between his teeth.

Harry shifts in Liam's lap, 'til his bum is pressed to the noticeable bulge in Liam's trousers. It could be from anything, really ― the wriggling around in his lap, or from Louis ― but Harry wants to believe it's there for him, more than anything. He wants the blush that's spread beneath the neck of Liam's shirt, down to his collarbones, to be for him.

Louis squeezes Harry's cock one last time before he sits back on his haunches, fixing his hair. He looks like a cat, the way he paws at it, trying to flatten it back down. Shuffling into a more comfortable position, Harry reaches for Louis and unbalances him, pulling him closer again.

“Harry, I swear to God,” Louis warns.

“Just shh,” Harry says. “Let me fix it.” Louis fights him at first, twisting and slapping Harry's hands away from his hair. “Let me fix it, Louis.”

With a huff, Louis settles against Harry's chest and lets him straighten his hair back into place as best as he can. They're basically using Liam as a recliner, and although he doesn't really seem all that bothered, he doesn't look exactly happy about it either.

Harry pauses for a moment to grab hold of Liam's wrist. “Fix his fringe,” Harry instructs, placing Liam's hand against Louis' forehead.

Liam looks confused while Louis just sort of purrs happily at being petted and fussed over. “There,” Harry decides. He grins at Liam and sort of tangles their fingers together to pull his away, and then leaves them twined together awkwardly.

“Drinks?” Louis asks everyone as he pops up off the sofa.

Harry grabs his beer, and it's still mostly full so he shakes his head. Zayn and Niall both say yes. Liam doesn't answer so Harry reaches back again to grab Liam's too, and it's nearly empty and Harry calls for a beer for Liam as well.

“No, thank you,” Liam amends. “I'm a bit tired, actually, should probably turn in soon.”

Harry scoffs, and Louis yells from the kitchen that that's nonsense. The other boys sort of mumble agreements, but neither of them are particularly paying attention to anything besides the television.

With Louis up, Harry could move from Liam's lap, and probably should, as Liam's likely not all that comfortable, but he doesn't bother, just curls his legs up on top of Liam's and sips his beer. He offers it to Liam when he's done taking his pull of it, who shakes his head 'no', but Harry rests the cool tip of the bottle against his lower lip anyway. He hesitates before he opens up and lets Harry pour some into his mouth. He's careful about it, making sure he doesn't drown Liam in beer, but a bit still slips out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry laughs and sets the bottle down. Liam moves to wipe it off, but Harry is quicker, beating him there to brush the liquid away with his thumb. His finger lingers at Liam's lip, pushing at the soft plush of it, and Liam's eyes wander down to Harry's mouth. Harry darts his tongue out, wetting his lips. He's laying it on thick, and he knows it, but he doesn't really see any other way to get his point across to Liam.

And God, he's not going to kiss Liam in front of the boys, no matter how distracted they are. Not for the first time, when things could go so spectacularly wrong, but if Zayn and Niall weren't there, Harry would. Just a little at first, to gauge Liam's reaction to it. Nothing like they usually do, sometimes, the stupid, purposely noisy and sloppy kisses as jokes, or the dry, polite ones that get passed out so easily for support and congratulations.

Not an accident, like before. No. Intent and focused and sweet and hopefully just dirty enough for Liam not to be confused and good and _right_. That's what Harry wants, and he wants no one else there to witness it but himself, Liam, and Louis.

Louis comes back with drinks, and Liam jerks his head away from Harry's touch, his eyes from Harry's mouth, and Harry rolls his eyes in Louis' direction. Louis just sort of shrugs with his eyebrows, and Harry knows exactly what he means ― _what can you do?_

He brings Liam his beer first, but holds it out of reach when Liam grabs for it. “Give me a kiss and you can have it,” Louis bargains.

Liam glowers, and Harry smirks. “I didn't even want it in the first place, I said I was tired.”

“Pish,” Louis scolds, wagging the beer. “We're not allowing that. So either kiss me or be horridly sober for the rest of the evening.” Liam crosses his arms, stubborn. “Your choice,” Louis says.

Zayn's already puckered up for his kiss when Louis takes him his drink, and Louis plants it on him loudly. “Thank you, darling,” he sighs, moving on to Niall, who just sort of tilts his head at a weird angle and waits, refusing to take his eyes off the television. Louis lays one on him, then grabs Niall's face and licks completely up the side of it.

Niall just grimaces at him and grabs his drink off the side table, saying, “Thanks,” his accent as strong as it ever is when he's intoxicated.

Louis flops himself back onto the couch with a long-suffering sigh. “Change your mind, Lee-yum? Just one little kiss.”

“No,” Liam says, not even glancing Louis' way.

“Suit yourself, then.” Louis leans into Harry's space, clasping his hand behind Harry's neck to pull him in. They're directly in front of Liam, and unless he turns his head entirely away, he's got no choice but to watch as Louis kisses Harry.

Harry is sure to make it good and Louis doesn't hold back either. He tilts Harry's head and sucks at his bottom lip before he slips his tongue into Harry's mouth. There's just enough space between their lips that Harry's sure Liam will be able to see the pink of their tongues sliding together. Louis' lips wrap around his tongue and suck lightly, driving Harry a little bit mad. It must look obscene to Liam, so close up. Harry keeps Louis close for one last kiss, ending it with a bite to Louis' lip, though he can't help but smile while he's doing it.

They're both grinning foolishly when they part, and Liam doesn't seem to know where to look, darting from Harry to Louis and back again. Harry can't wipe the smile away, even after he's swiped the back of his hand across his wet lips. Louis tongues at the corner of his mouth, then snaps his eyes to Liam's as he offers him his beer.

“You see what you're missing, you bloody boring bastard? We're gonna have to work on that.”

―

Harry doesn't remember falling asleep. He remembers laughing until he was sick to his stomach and drinking, the flow of endless conversation and background noise of the telly, being comfortably warm in Liam's lap and having Louis right there with him the entire time.

But then he's being woken up quite rudely by a pinch on the arse. He flails, trying to make it stop and arms wrap around him, and he hears, “Whoa, I got you.” Then, “Leave him alone, you tosser, I said I'd help him to bed.”

Harry blinks his eyes open against Liam's neck and groans, tucking his nose further into the warmth of skin. Someone ― Louis, Harry's sure ― pinches him again, right where his shirt is ridden up and skin is showing above the top of his pants.

Harry groans again, more whiny this time and Liam says, “Louis, I mean it.”

“Alright, you drag his lazy arse to bed then, _Lee-yum_.”

“Come on, Hazza,” Liam whispers, shifting Harry in his lap. Harry whines again, about nothing this time, but just to see what Liam will let him get away with. He's more than capable of getting up and walking on his own; Louis knows that, but Liam doesn't. He apparently thinks Harry is incapacitated.

Liam strokes down his back, says, “I know, but we've got to get to bed, okay? Come on, let's get up, yeah?”

When Harry doesn't move, Liam sort of gently starts to maneuver him around, and Harry wonders if Liam will really go so far as to try carrying Harry to bed. The thought nearly makes him laugh and he disguises a snort into Liam's neck as a disgruntled sound.

“Stand up, Harry, please?”

Harry gives him a break and rolls off of Liam's lap to his feet, pretending to be far more unsteady than he is. Liam keeps a tight grip on his arm and draws himself upright. He stumbles far worse than Harry did and then widens his eyes.

“My legs are numb from you sitting on them all night,” he says a bit defensively.

Harry nods, mumbles an apology, and clings to Liam's shirt under the guise of needing the hold to stay upright, but really, Harry's more concerned about keeping Liam's standing at this point. They stumble together toward Harry's bedroom and Harry topples to the empty bed, trying to pull Liam down with him.

When he resists, Harry makes another of those whining sounds that seem to be so convincing to Liam. “Li, stay. Come to bed.” Liam huffs and Harry cries, “ _Please._ ”

“Okay, okay, fine. Just let me use the loo first. I'll come back.”

Harry lets him go with the promise, and as soon as Liam's out of the room, he stands up and walks to the bathroom, where Louis is brushing his teeth. “You really are a shameless little slut, you know,” Louis says around his toothbrush.

Harry grins and musses up his hair, flicking it easily back into place as he walks to the toilet. “It's why you love me.”

“Liam's staying, by the way,” Harry whispers as he walks back up to Louis, grinning at him through the mirror. Harry washes his hands and sips from the tap before he brushes his teeth.

Louis stares at him the entire time, a blank expression on his face. It makes Harry nervous. Once he's finished, Louis pulls him close and looks directly into his eyes as he asks, “Are you sure about this?”

Harry frowns, his stomach somersaulting suddenly. “Aren't you?”

Louis shrugs and shakes his head. “I'm just worried that you haven't had enough time to think it through, Haz.”

“And you have?” Harry questions, confused. Louis quirks half of his mouth upwards and Harry understands. “Oh.”

Louis sighs and rubs at his arms. “I've never wanted just him, Harry. It's not like that. There's never been a time that I wanted him without you there, you know? I want you, always, always. But yeah, I've had more time to consider this. I've been thinking about if for quite a while.”

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” Harry asks.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You would have ripped my head off. You're so stupidly jealous, sometimes. And that's what I'm worried about, love. If we do this, you can't ― you fucking can't throw it back at me. If you're going to be a jealous shit about it, then we're not going there.”

“I won't.” He must answer too quickly because Louis just looks at him dubiously. “I won't,” Harry promises. “I get it now, okay? I didn't, before. It makes sense now, and even if I haven't had as much time as you to think about it, I... I think. No, I know it's what I want. I'm sure if you are, Lou.”

There's a gentle knock on the door and they both look at it as Liam asks, “Is Harry in there?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers. “I'm just getting him ready for bed. We'll be right out.”

“Well, okay, I think– Think I'll just go–”

“No, Li, you can't leave!” Harry says, once again affecting the highly annoying whiny tone.

“Oh my God,” Louis groans quietly into his neck. “You are the fucking worst.”

Harry laughs silently, listening as Liam sighs loudly and walks away from the door.

“Like you needed someone else to worry about you all the damn time,” Louis grumbles, sweeping Harry's fringe away from his eyes.

Harry smiles, sheepish, and leans in to kiss Louis softly, whispering, “Love you, Lou.”

“I love you too, you spoiled shit. Pants on or off?”

Harry laughs, “On, I think. Not tonight. Don't you think? We should wait until. Well, I just don't know. I mean, I know it's what we want. But Liam. What if he...” he mumbles nonsensically as he strips his clothes off, throwing them in the hamper.

“I think,” Louis starts, stepping right up into Harry's space again before he goes on, “that he has wanted you from the beginning, just like I did. And I also think that we've not teased him quite enough for the night. Get a hard on, show off what you've got.”

“Get a hard on,” Harry repeats. “I don't think it works that way.”

“Could've fooled me,” Louis quips, and Harry nearly bursts out laughing before he remembers that Liam is under the impression that he's drunk or half-asleep or something.

“Get a hard on,” he mutters one last time, shaking his head. He leans against the door frame and opens the door, rubbing his eyes in what he hopes is a convincing manner.

Liam is standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, shifting from foot to foot. Harry watches him fondly for a moment and thinks about how Liam does the same thing when he's singing. It's the most adorable thing Harry's ever seen. Everything about Liam is stupidly adorable. Despite being taller and broader and more muscle-y than Harry, Liam, by every meaning of the word, is adorable.

Harry crosses the room and flops himself to the bed again, sitting on the edge. “Come to bed, I'm tired.”

He expects Liam to tell him to stop being a whiny, demanding little shit like Louis would eventually, but for now, Liam complies to each and every one of Harry's demands.

“I'll just sleep down the hall,” Liam counters weakly.

“Can't, no bedclothes,” Harry supplies.

“You should see the mess Harry made of those last night,” Louis says as he walks into the room. “Come everywhere.”

Harry feels his face heat up and he bites down on his lip. Liam visibly stiffens at the mention of the night before as well, or at Harry coming all over the place ― it's hard to tell.

“Can't sleep in those, Li. Sleeping in your undies or you want some jammies?” Louis asks nonchalantly, like he hasn't just made everyone in the room besides himself uncomfortable.

“Pajamas, I guess.”

Louis nods and then goes to Harry's wardrobe for some bottoms, tossing them to Liam who turns his back to change.

Finally, he comes to bed. Harry scoots to the middle and Liam sits stiffly beside him, like they've never all shared a bed before. Louis flips the light off and Harry flails to get an arm over Liam's waist, pulling him down to the pillows, closer. His feet are tangled with Louis', with Louis spooned up behind him, and Liam in front of him, on his back, Harry's arm looped over his abdomen.

Harry couldn't be happier.

“Night, loves,” he whispers.

―

Unsurprisingly, Liam's gone when they wake. It's late, so there's no telling if he sneaked out in the wee hours of the morn, or if he stayed with them until it was obvious they wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

It's better this way though, Harry decides. His head is achy and Louis is in a bad mood, as he usually is when he feels like shit. Liam's lucky he had the chance to escape.

Harry thinks maybe that it's best they give Liam some time alone anyway, time to think and clear his head. Forcing it all on him at once so suddenly wouldn't do them any good. He thinks they're all probably going to need a bit of time to come to terms with it all and get used to it, settle in.

It's not as though Liam even has any idea at all yet. He can be so dense about things, and Harry's almost certain this will be one of those things that will have to be beaten into his head with a hammer

Last night had been a bit of an ease into it, for Harry more so than anyone, probably. He's just getting used to the idea, whereas Louis has had plenty of time to ponder the possibility, apparently. Last night was likely one giant session of foreplay to him. With Liam in the dark, any more pushing than had already been done the night before would likely just confuse him further.

They need to talk. As difficult as the conversation will be, they have too much at risk to avoid talking about it before jumping in head first. Harry's not willing to risk the band and their career, and most of all, he's not willing to risk his friendships or his relationship with Louis.

Harry's still in bed when Liam drops by. He's at least managed to drag himself to the shower though, so he hopefully doesn't look or smell like a homeless person. He's not sure why it matters as Liam's seen Harry at his absolute very worst, but impressing Liam is suddenly a highly important thing. Although he doubts still being in bed at two in the afternoon is impressive in any way.

“Hey,” Liam greets quietly from the doorway.

Harry looks up from his phone and grins. His head still hurts, so he doesn't bother getting out of bed, just leans back against the headboard and makes Liam come to him. Realistically, he knows lying in bed looking at his phone isn't going to make his headache go away, but getting up sounds like too much work.

“How are you feeling?” Liam asks as he sits down on the edge of the bed beside Harry.

“Bit shit,” Harry says, eyeing up the bag Liam's got in his hand along with the tray of coffees in his other.

“Figured as much. I stopped on my way home from the shop,” he supplies, raising his offerings. He sets it all down on the table next to the bed and then opens the bag and digs around inside. “I got your favorite,” he says, passing it over to Harry, along with a coffee.

Harry groans as he takes a bite, suddenly ravenous. Everything's perfect. Liam knows exactly what he likes. “I could kiss you right now,” Harry mumbles with his mouth full.

Liam's quiet for a moment and Harry looks up at him and realizes what he's just said. Liam's eyes are locked somewhere in the vicinity of his mouth, and Harry tries to chew a bit more sexily, if that's even possible.

“A thank you is more than enough,” Liam says finally, pink in the cheeks.

“Thanks, this is perfect. I feel better already. You are the best, Liam.”

Liam watches as Harry takes another bite, and then seems to catch himself and stands up, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Harry is intrigued by that, curious why Liam is nervous.

“Well, I guess I'll get out of your hair. I got some for Lou, too,” he says, motioning to the bag.

“Oh, thanks. He's in the shower,” Harry says inanely, watching Liam shuffle about.

“You can keep it warm for him then.”

Harry blinks and looks at Liam inquisitively, wondering, _was that flirting?_

“Well, I'll just–”

“Hey, wait,” Harry says, stopping Liam before he can turn to go. “Do you want to come for dinner later? We can get take-away or I'll make something. I don't know what we have that I can throw together but–”

“Take-away's good. Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Good, great,” Harry says, smiling. “Seven?”

“Yeah,” Liam answers, returning Harry's smile.

_A date_ , Harry thinks wildly. This will be like their first date. They'll have to talk, of course, and maybe he should have brought it up with Louis before making plans, but Lou's just going to have to understand. This is something that needs to be discussed, and Harry's already tired of waiting.

“Do you want me to stop and tell the boys, then? Or do they know?”

The smile drops off Harry's face and he has to smooth out his disappointment quickly. “Um.” _Shit._ “No. No actually, I was thinking just us. You, Louis, and me.”

And they don't do that. They all eat together, or they all eat separately, usually. Sometimes someone can't make it ― if they've already got things going on, plans ― but they’re always invited. This... This is already getting complicated. Different.

“Oh,” Liam says. Then nods uncertainly. “Okay. See you later.”

Harry watches him go and sighs, thunking his head back against the headboard, and regretting it instantly when his headache throbs its way back into his temples ― a reminder that Liam isn't actually a cure-all for everything, sadly.

His eyes are still closed and he's sipping at his coffee when Liam comes back. “Everything's okay though, right? It's just a quiet dinner with us or whatever, nothing's wrong?”

Startled, Harry chokes and nearly gets coffee up his nose. He shoots Liam a glare because, God, he is _quiet_ and does he never leave when he's supposed to?

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, wiping at his mouth. “No, everything's fine. We've just got something to talk to you about, but there's nothing wrong.”

Liam looks as though he desperately wants to ask more questions, but he manages to hold them in. “Okay. Sorry. I, uh. I'm going now.”

“See you,” Harry mumbles, still clearing his lungs of the coffee he inhaled.

―

“We want to date you.”

Liam chokes on a chow mein noodle, and Harry nearly grins in satisfaction, thinking it serves him right, payback and all that. But they've barely just started their dinner and Louis has already dropped the bomb.

God knows, Harry had every intention of beating his way around the subject until the very last possible second. He's not so sure now whether having Louis on board with this plan to talk it out first is a good thing or not.

“I'm sorry, what?” Liam asks after taking a very large gulp of his previously untouched wine.

“We want. To date you,” Louis repeats, making sure the words are clearly defined, unmistakable.

Harry reaches for his own wine glass, swallowing down half of it though he'd wanted to stay sober. Unfortunately, Louis thrives in tense situations where he's got the upper hand, which means that Harry is in for one hell of a long night.

Liam stares at them both, looks from one to the other and back again, and again, and again. His lips sort of quirk up into a grin and he says, “I don't get it.”

“There's nothing to get, love. I'd say we want to fuck you, but at this point I think we're both far beyond wanting just a simple shag off you.”

Liam knees the underside of the table and Harry jumps so hard he nearly does the same thing. Frustrated, he grabs his wine glass and empties it. He's not supposed to be the one who's so nervous here.

Liam says nothing as he stares down at his plate, stabbing at his food with his fork, and then letting it clatter to the table loudly. He wipes his mouth, and Harry can think nothing but, _fuck, fuck, fuck, he's leaving, he's going to leave, he's walking out already, and everything is fucked._

“Wait, Liam, don't go, please,” Harry injects, though Liam hasn't moved from where he's sitting stiffly across from them. “Just... Just let us explain, okay?”

Liam waits, his eyes fixed on Harry expectantly. Harry looks at Louis and is met with the same expectant expression from him. He'd be mad, but he basically backed himself right into that corner.

Harry sighs and tries to gather his thoughts, staring down fixedly at the table to avoid the prying gazes he knows are still locked on him. He wishes he could eat as a distraction, but his stomach is in knots. The only one still eating is Louis, pretending like none of this is bothering him. Harry isn't so easily fooled. He knows that Louis wants this, _needs this_ as much as Harry does, he's simply far better at hiding it. Louis is nervous too, whether he's showing it or not.

“Well, um, I guess, the thing is that...”

“Oh, here we go,” Louis interrupts, and Harry glares at him. Louis simply smirks back and says, “Take your time, we've technically got all night.”

Harry clears his throat and starts again, this time at least looking at Liam while he talks. “I'm sure this all seems very sudden and confusing to you, it is for me as well, but I don't think that means it's a bad idea. I'm quite certain it's a great idea, actually. We're both very sure of this, which is why we're here, obviously, because we need to know what your feelings are and if you return our want for a relationship at all, and how to proceed. Or not,” he tacks on as an afterthought, though he desperately would like not to go down that path.

“I still don't understand,” Liam says, shaking his head. “You keep saying relationship, but the two of you are already–”

“The three of us, Liam,” Louis injects. “You, Harry, me, in one relationship. Not me and Harry and you separately, or Harry and you, or me and you. All three of us. Together.”

“But you and Harry are already–”

“I realize that, but I don't really see how that matters if we both want you, and you feel the same about us?” Louis says.

Liam doesn't seem to notice it's a question until the silence starts to stretch on, the anticipation for his answer making the wait tense. He seems flustered and upset, and Harry isn't surprised when he avoids answering. “But the two of you are a _couple_ , you can't... It doesn't work that way!”

Louis starts to talk, already getting a bit hot, voice raised, and Harry talks over the top of him, a warning to calm down, that he can't get upset too and he needs to understand that Liam probably isn't as open-minded as the two of them are.

“It's far from traditional, we know that. And it's not like this is just some passing fancy. We're not bored and looking for something to spice up our lives, Li; we'd never do that to you. You've got to understand that we're serious about this, and we hope... We hope that it's something you'll at least consider. If it's a no, then no hard feelings, mate, we understand, and we'll move on. But. But we really would love for you to say yes, and we can play this out however you want to, as long as you know we're not taking it lightly. This isn't just some fuck and duck. You're one of our best mates, and we want this to work.”

Liam shakes his head slowly once Harry's finished his little speech, like he's bemused. “So why would you risk that? Why me?” he asks.

Harry stumbles on that question and looks to Louis for an answer, but Lou is gathering up the dishes, taking them away, clearly planning on leaving Harry to do the bulk of the talking. Prick.

“I guess I don't really see it as a risk. If your answer's no, then it's no. I'm not going to pretend that we won't be disappointed, but I think as long as you truly have no romantic feelings toward us than we'll be fine. Except that I think if your honest answer was no, you'd have shut us down already.”

Liam blushes a little but says nothing and Harry's hope swells. He continues, “And understand that this isn't a buy one, get one free deal. You have to know that it's only going to work as long as you want us both, like we both want you, and like we want each other. Everything will be too messy if you go in just wanting one of us, and if that is the case, then we need to be told upfront. This will be complicated, I'm pretty sure of that, but I think as long as we're honest with each other and we try hard, we can make it work.

“As for why you. I don't know how to explain that, Liam. For me, there's always been something about you. You're, you know, brilliant and sweet and very talented, obviously, and you're bloody gorgeous and a great friend and I've always felt like we got on really well. It's... It's everything about you.”

Harry hears a snort and looks up to find Louis looking very amused, for no apparent reason. “Would you say that's what makes him beautiful?”

Harry groans and drops his face down to his hands, shaking his head.

“You've got that one thing, Liam. It's gotta be you, only you. Stole my heart with just one look.”

Harry laughs helplessly, immensely relieved when Liam laughs too. Some of the tension creeps out of the room, and they just laugh, stupid and a bit scared and uncertain. Harry's probably a bit shit with words, and maybe he's not even making any sense, but he's still hopeful and wants nothing more than for this to work out.

Louis sweeps back into the room, ruffling Harry's hair as he walks past. “Such a way with words, young Hazza.”

Harry scowls after him, and Louis has this look on his face that Harry can't quite understand. A tilt to his eyebrow that asks, _are you sure are you sure are you sure?_ And Harry doesn't know what it means, but he's pretty sure anyway, he trusts Louis ― trusts him with his heart and his body and his life ― so he nods, _yes_.

Louis has rounded to Liam's side of the table and Liam's still grinning, eased by laughter after the heavy conversation. And Louis says, “For me it's always just been kinda,” and he doesn't finish his thought with words, but with a kiss.

Harry's eyes widen as he watches, his mind on a stuttering, endless loop of, _Oh. Oh. Oh._ He wasn't expecting that, and from the looks of it, Liam wasn't either, but he's kissing back, letting Louis lead, but still giving it back just as good.

And Harry's a bit pissed because Louis was supposed to wait. Liam hasn't even answered yet; they have _no_ idea what it is that he wants, and Louis shouldn’t be kissing him yet. But he's Louis. He's reckless and impatient ― even more so than Harry ― and he wants what he wants.

It's not jealousy, not even the slightest bit, which Harry is almost startled to realize. He's never seen Louis kiss someone else this way before; never seen someone's lips slipped between Louis' or Louis' hands on the back of someone else's neck, his fingers carding through their hair. Not _like this_. It's shocking to be standing right there, knowing that he asked for this, wanted it. Parts of him were still twisted up with nerves that having it right in front of him would be too much, that he wouldn't be able to deal with it.

Just days ago, he wouldn't have stopped to consider what he was seeing. He wouldn't have thought about how it could be _this_ way; it would have been a constant litany of, _no, no, he's mineminemine_ running through his head. But the thing is that now, it doesn't feel wrong. The problem is that he thinks maybe he should be upset to see his boyfriend kissing someone else, and he just isn't, can't be. There's something inexplicably right about the way Liam kisses Louis back, how they just fit together and it makes Harry feel warm all over. It doesn't feel like voyeurism or like he's intruding by watching them, but like he belongs there, and he does. He's part of the kiss even from the other side of the room, and that's even more confirmed as they both turn their eyes to him once they part.

It feels like they're waiting for him to say something, so he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “You were supposed to wait until he told us he was sure,” he says accusingly at Louis.

“You're just mad you didn't get the first kiss,” Louis shoots right back at him. It's only a little bit true. “And it's not like anyone can say no to you anyway.”

Harry rolls his eyes at Louis and looks to Liam. “He wasn't supposed to without your permission first.”

“I think his virtue is still intact,” Harry hears Louis mumble.

Harry ignores him and continues, “So if you do have an answer for us, then we can continue however you'd like. Or, if not, you can take as long as you need to think about it.”

Harry steps forward and grabs Louis' wrist, pulls him away like he's a child that's touching something he's not supposed to. Liam's lips quirk up, twitching, making it look like he's smothering a full-blown smile.

“What Louis said before, he's right, you know,” Liam answers.

“About your virtue?” Harry asks confusedly.

Liam does crack then, grinning widely as he shakes his head. Louis slides up behind Harry, wraps an arm around his waist, and leans in closer to his ear to speak. “No, about you being mad you didn't get to kiss him first.”

“I wouldn't have been able to say no to you even if I'd wanted to,” Liam says.

Harry's feet don't move of their own accord, it's Louis behind him guiding him forward, hands placed at Harry's hips, pushing him carefully until his body's nearly flush with Liam's.

“I did technically get the first kiss,” Harry whispers, eyes locked on Liam's.

Behind him, he hears Louis' disgruntled grumble. “That one doesn't count.”

“But this one does?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Liam breathes between them.

That's good enough for Harry. He's never kissed anyone taller than he is before, and for the briefest of moments, it's strange, leaning up to kiss. Then it clicks into place as he steps forward and feels the warmth of Liam's chest against his own. Their lips slip to the perfect angle and Harry winds his fingers into Liam's hair, holding him close. He feels the curve of Louis' smile at the back of his neck, Louis' face nuzzling into his hair as he nods, Louis' hands clutching tightly to his hips. It feels to Harry like Louis is saying, _This, Hazza. This is what I wanted._ And Harry agrees, right between Louis and Liam feels like the perfect place to be.

Harry's spun around unexpectedly in their arms, and then he's chest to chest with Louis. He grips at Liam's thigh with one hand and Louis' hip with the other as Louis kisses him. Pressed so tightly between their bodies, kissing them both, touching them at the same time, Harry is impossibly worked up already, so hard from so little. He ruts forward against the press of Louis' body, and Louis bites at his lip, pushing him right back into Liam.

Harry breaks away from the kiss, head thrown back against Liam's shoulder, and pants a little wildly. This is all so much more than he was expecting. The feel of their hands all over him, their lips on his skin, their bodies holding him tightly in place. He's going to come from just this, if he doesn't calm down soon. It's nearly too much to take so quickly, all of the stimulation. He can hardly imagine being smashed between the two of them completely naked, if this is what it feels like while clothed.

He turns in their arms once more, this time on his own. He kisses Liam again, not so hesitant now. He presses right into it, tongue pushing past lips to have a better taste of him. Louis' hands work beneath his shirt, nails scratching down the length of his back as he bites at the side of Harry's neck, and Harry moans into Liam's mouth, hips jerking forward.

“Fuck.” Harry pulls back to curse into Liam's neck.

Louis' sucking at the spot on his neck, leaving it bright red to match the other two he's already got. They'd be such ugly things, if he didn't love them so much ― the marks, the proof left on his skin that he's Louis'. It's a little sick, maybe, how much he likes them, how much he loves it when Louis will find one that's starting to fade and bite it back into life, leaving it sore to the touch ― but Harry never stops him from licking over it, pressing a finger to it, even though it throbs like a wound.

Louis bites down again, a little lower, so close to the next one, and Harry twists away from between the press of bodies before he can embarrass himself. He's so close, from nothing more than a few love bites and the feeling of four hands bumping into each other, overlapping as they touch him.

He circles around behind Liam, presses him forward into Louis. “Hello again, love,” he hears Louis say, returned by a shaky, “Hey,” from Liam.

It makes Harry grin, giddy and stupidly in love. These are his very best friends, and he gets them both. He gets all of them, every part, and that is simply the best thing.

Harry wraps his arms around Liam's waist, fingers brushing against Louis' stomach. He can hear them kissing, the soft sounds they're making. It doesn't help to calm him down in the slightest. Deftly, he finds the bottom of Liam's shirt and works it open one button at a time. He pauses mid-stomach to slip his hand beneath the fabric, to touch the skin of Liam's abdomen.

Liam shudders and Harry leans his head between Liam's shoulder blades, letting his hand travel higher. Liam stiffens, and Harry doesn't know if it's something he's done or Louis, but it makes him pull his hand away regardless. Louis has stopped kissing him as well, backed off slightly.

"Is this... Are we going too fast?" Harry asks, leaning back from Liam just enough to give him some space, room to breathe.

"No. No, we're okay. I just, I started thinking, and we're. Shit, we're really doing this?" Liam questions.

"Unless you want to stop," Harry says.

"No, I think I'm good. It's just a lot to take in."

"Stop thinking so much," Louis says. "We're really doing this."

Liam nods, stepping into the circle of Louis' arms once more, and Harry presses himself to Liam's back again, fingers resuming their upward movement. He struggles to reach the last button, the very top one that Liam keeps done up at his throat. It's fucking ridiculous and Harry snorts against Liam's shoulder, jerking the button loose a little roughly. He strips the offending fabric out of the way once it's completely undone and then he comes a bit undone himself with his hands tracing up the contours of Liam's toned back.

It's not that Louis' not toned, really. Louis has a great body, and Harry is more than a bit in love with it. But Louis is small and slim, while Liam is so much bigger. Louis doesn't have the dips and ridges of muscle, and Harry's okay with that, but he's okay with having a bit more to hold on to as well, a waist that feels like steel beneath his hands.

"Christ," Harry mutters, reaching around Liam's front to feel the rest of him. He's not huge, but he's still plenty big, and Harry's hands feel almost small spread out against the expanse of his hard stomach.

Harry touches him all over, from chest to shoulders and back down, and he saves the lower regions for last. When his fingers dig into the cuts of Liam's hips, he hears Louis groan, and Harry wonders what happened, what he made happen. He only pauses a second, fingers alternating between moving feather light across Liam's skin and pressing in to really make him feel it.

Harry hesitates only a moment before moving his hand lower yet, to the front of Liam's jeans. He can feel Liam warm and thick through the denim. He tightens his hold, getting a grip on him to _really_ get a feel for what he's got. Both Liam and Harry moan, and Harry sinks his teeth into Liam's shoulder, biting lightly in frustration as he squeezes around the length.

"Bedroom," Louis suggests, his voice nearly wrecked already.

"Yeah," Liam agrees.

Harry lets him go and turns to lead them to his room, pulling his own shirt off along the way.

Once they're in the bedroom, everything comes to a standstill. Harry's the first to move, going to Louis who's the only one with his shirt still on. He pulls it over his head roughly, messing up Louis' hair as he yanks it off. Neither of them give a shit, and Harry surges forward to catch Louis' mouth in a sloppy kiss, too much tongue and teeth, overeager and wet. Then Harry turns back to Liam, shoving him easily back against the bed. He pushes again when Liam's legs have connected with the mattress, and Liam lets himself go down.

Harry drops to his knees between Liam's spread thighs and Liam immediately threads his fingers through Harry's hair, like he can't wait, he's so desperate for it.

"You sure?" Harry asks, needing to know with absolute certainty that Liam hasn't changed his mind.

He nods, grunts, "Yeah," and bites down on his lip as he watches Harry make quick work of his fly. Before he can get any further than that, Harry glances back at Louis over his shoulder, finds him standing there patiently, waiting. Harry tries for his best _come hither_ look and it must work because Louis drops down beside Harry, kissing him and then helping him get Liam's trousers open, off.

Liam's cock bounces free of his pants, arcing straight up from between his thighs, so hard and swollen. Harry's mouth goes wet at the sight, wanting nothing more than to have it in him.

"Can I?" he asks, and it's probably a bit late for that. If anything, he should have asked before stripping Liam's pants off, but Liam doesn't seem bothered, just nods his head and guides Harry forward by his hair.

It feels so good between his lips, salty-sweet skin that's so warm on his tongue, the girth of him stretching Harry's lips more than he's used to. He groans, taking him in deeper, and Liam makes a sound too, urgent and choked. Harry looks up to see Louis kissing his chest, tongue and teeth working at a nipple. Louis pushes Liam flat to the bed and climbs up, straddling Liam's waist. Pre-come leaks against Harry's tongue and he sucks him in deeper, swallowing until Liam's stretching his throat.

"Haz," Liam pants, sounding so far away.

Harry wonders if he should let Liam come, let him blow his load in Harry's mouth, but he worries that it'll change something if Liam gets off already. He pops off with a lewd sound and lets Liam's cock fall to rest against his stomach, leaving trails of wet, a mixture of saliva and pre-come. Harry wipes his mouth as he stands and quickly rids himself of the rest of his clothes. Louis is still hovering over Liam, sucking and biting marks into his skin the way he does Harry's, and Harry easily pushes him off, onto his side and then his back.

Louis grunts but doesn't struggle as Harry climbs onto the bed, crawling right over the top of Liam to get Louis naked. Once his pants are gone, carelessly tossed off to the side, Harry leans in to suck him. Familiar and perfect, he fits right into Harry the way that Liam didn't. It's comforting, helps Harry calm down a little so he doesn't feel so wild with need.

"How do we want to do this?" Louis asks as he rakes his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry doesn't have an answer, so he keeps his lips sealed tight around Louis' cock, sucking him slowly.

"Uh. I don't have much of a preference," Liam says.

"Have you, before?" Louis asks him curiously, and Liam nods, says, "Both, yeah."

Harry's surprised at that and he looks up at Liam, catches his eye. He's thinking, _way to go, you stud_ rather ridiculously, and Liam seems to catch on, pinking up just a little as he grins.

"Your mouth, Haz," he mutters, reaching a hesitant hand out to where Harry's lips are wrapped tight around Louis' cock.

The tip of his finger catches at the corner of his mouth and Harry opens wider, letting Liam slip it in alongside Louis.

"Fuck," Harry hears whispered, and he's not even sure which of them says it. He keeps his eyes closed as he concentrates on trying to keep his mouth tight around both of them.

It feels strange to have two completely different textures in his mouth, rough and smooth, and two different shapes, thick and thin. But it's not bad weird, and he finds himself thinking about how it would feel if they fucked him like that ― Louis' cock in his arse and Liam's finger in him too, stretching him wider than he's used to, new and exciting and moremoremore.

"Do you want to fuck him?"

Harry pulls off of Louis' cock with a startled sound to press his hot face into Louis' hip. Louis ruffles his hair, tugging lightly at the curls, and Harry bites at Louis' skin, sharply enough that it'll sting. Louis hisses and pulls Harry away. Harry looks up at them both and hopes his face isn't so red, but he doubts it, he can feel the heat all the way to the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” Liam says, quiet and a little choked. Harry looks right at him, sees his hand fisted tight around his cock, squeezing like it aches and he can't help but try to make the hurt stop. “If that's okay, yeah.”

“It's okay with me. Harry?” Louis asks, though he already knows the answer. God, he knows how bad Harry wants it, he must.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's fine,” he manages to say. He doesn't mean to let the ' _please_ ' slip but it does and they both hear it. Louis is grinning, so fond as his thumb traces back and forth over Harry's flaming cheek, and Liam flexes his fingers around his cock, forcing out another spurt of pre-come.

“Side table,” Louis instructs. “There's lube and a condom. Get him ready.”

Liam nods, does as he's told, and Harry waits, panting in anticipation as he hears the contents of the drawer being shifted around. There's the snap of the bottle opening and Harry shifts his legs wider, arching his back, and Louis, he just can't keep his mouth shut, and he has to say, “Such a slut for it. Can't wait to have him in you.”

Harry moans helplessly and bites Louis again because he just wants Louis to stop it, stop reminding him of how maybe he should be embarrassed at how badly he wants it.

“Not too much at first, Li. If you go too fast, he'll come all over himself.”

Harry buries his face in Louis' groin, huffing out an unsteady breath there as he shakes his head.

“Jesus,” he hears Liam mutter, and Harry's thinking the exact same thing. It's too much, Louis' not holding back at all, but that's just how he does things. Louis never does anything halfway. It drives Harry mad, how easily he says stuff like that, and he wishes he could too, wishes he knew the words to say to make Louis feel like he's about to shake apart.

But even if Harry doesn't have the words, he's got a mouth, and sometimes he can make Louis shut up that way, keep him quiet by sucking away his ability to talk.

Harry's not nice about it. He goes back to sucking Louis' cock with renewed fervor, tongue pushed beneath his foreskin, and sucking, too hard. Louis' head falls back, a startled gasp ripped from his throat while his hips jerk off the bed toward Harry's mouth. He takes him in further, doesn't stop until his nose is pressed to Louis' warm skin. With his hands braced against Louis' hips, Harry holds him there, eyes closed and blissful, Louis' cock down his throat.

Louis pulls him off eventually, gently by his hair and Harry blinks his eyes open, gasping for breath through his wide, wet mouth.

Liam warns him before he starts, one hand spreading him open, and then a finger is at his hole, slippery wet. He moves differently than Louis does, twisting while Louis more wriggles in, careful but sure where Louis is curious and almost never hesitant. He works slow, but not too slowly that Harry loses interest. It's good.

Harry whimpers around Louis' cock when Liam asks if he's ready. He's got three fingers twisted into him, and Harry wouldn't be able to answer even if his mouth wasn't full. He nods as best as he can.

“Yeah, he's ready. He's practically shaking, he needs it so fucking bad,” Louis says.

It's true, really, but Harry scrapes his teeth lightly along the underside of Louis' cock anyway, punishment for opening his big fucking mouth again, for knowing Harry so well.

The overly loud noise Louis makes causes Liam to pause, and Harry pushes back against him, waiting.

“He's embarrassed,” Louis says.

Harry pulls off of him, then, defiant. “I am not,” he counters, voice hoarse.

Louis takes advantage of Harry's teeth not being near his cock and wraps a hand tight in his hair, holding him back. “He's embarrassed that I keep telling you how badly he wants your cock in him, Liam. Like you can't see for yourself how fucking desperate he is to have us both in him, filling him up.”

Liam soothes his hands down Harry's back. “You don't have to be embarrassed,” he says. “I like it. I love how much you want it.”

Harry visibly shudders at that, gasping quietly as he rocks back against Liam again, expectant.

“It's alright,” Liam comforts.

“I'm not embarrassed,” Harry groans. “God, just, put it in me. Liam, fuck me already, please.”

When Harry looks up at Louis, he's grinning down at him. He lunges forward, catching Harry's bruised lips in a kiss. Harry moans into Louis' mouth as Liam starts to push into him.

Louis pulls away from his mouth, catches his chin in his hand, and meets Harry's eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “He's big, isn't he?” Harry nods, gasping and biting down on his lip when Liam's all the way in. Liam's good, he's good, he knows to just wait a minute, to give Harry a chance to adjust, because he is big, bigger than what Harry's used to. “Feels good?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry whimpers. “Feels so good.”

Louis kisses him again, lets Harry moan and pant into his mouth until Harry pushes him away, begging, “Now, want you now.”

It's harder to suck Louis off while he's being fucked than he imagined it would be. It's so much harder to concentrate on being careful when he's got Liam behind him, making him lose his mind. Harry has to use nothing but his mouth to keep himself braced for each of Liam's thrusts. Louis helps, guiding Harry when he gets distracted, and using his own hand on what Harry can't take all the time.

Louis comes first, warning Harry with the usual tug on the ear. Harry takes him deeper, and he can't help thinking of the first time they'd done this ― how he'd not known then what the tug on the ear meant, his first time ever giving a blowjob, and he'd choked so horribly on Louis' come. He knows now what it means, and he does everything he can to make it better for Louis, the best, he fucking deserves it.

Harry tries his hardest to swallow it all, sucking Louis' through it until he can't take it anymore. Louis spreads himself out beside them, says lowly, “Come on, Liam, fuck him. He can take it.”

No longer worried about bracing himself, Harry lets his arms give out, burying his face in the duvet. Liam's hips snap quicker and harder, and it doesn't take long for him to get to the point where he's got no rhythm at all. Liam stays quiet, but Harry more than makes up for it, and he'd be so fucked if they had any vocals scheduled this week because his throat feels raw.

Louis takes pity on him and reaches beneath to get a hold of his cock. Harry's whole body locks up; he was already so close and Louis brings him off with just a twist of his wrist. Distantly, he knows that Louis is trying to keep him from making a mess of the bed, but he can't help fucking into his hand, bucking against every spasm that wracks his body.

The only thing keeping him up is the grip Liam has on his hips, and when Liam eases his way out, Harry goes limp, collapses there with every bone and muscle in his body like jelly.

Someone rolls him onto his back and he grunts at having to move. “You're like a baby, have to make sure you're on your back for fear that you'll smother if you sleep on your front,” Louis says.

“Ugh,” Harry replies. “'M tired.”

He feels an arm drape over his waist and reaches out to feel who, too much work to open his eyes. It's Liam, Harry realizes, as he combs his fingers through his sweaty hair. He snuggles in closer and mumbles, “I get to top next time.”

“Lord help us all,” he hears Louis say.

Harry kicks out tiredly. “That was me,” Liam grumbles and Harry tangles his fingers into his hair, blindly kissing him.

“Sorry,” he says, rolling half on top of him to kick again, grinning when he hits Louis.

He falls asleep like that, half draped over Liam's body, with Louis reaching across to play with his hair.

―

Harry wakes when he hears the door snick shut.

“Mph,” he groans into the pillow. He shivers beneath the duvet that feels cold against his skin.

He turns his head, cracking an eye, and sees Louis all the way at the other side of the bed, clearly fast asleep. Liam's gone. The bathroom door is wide open.

Dread pools into Harry's stomach and he rises from the bed as quietly as he can. His body protests, stiff and sore from the night before, but he forces himself to walk on his tip-toes, grabbing a pair of pants as he goes.

He quickly pulls the pants on in the corridor and lengthens his stride, heart pounding in his throat when he sees Liam is still in the living room, bent over to pick up his discarded shirt. He's got a hoodie on, and he stuffs his shirt into the front pocket as he stands back up, each movement looking calculated.

“Hey,” Harry says quietly, crossing his arms over his chest as he shivers against the cold.

Liam turns, startled, and raises a hand to his hair, running his fingers through it as he pushes the hood that was still up off his head.

“Hey,” Liam replies carefully.

“Were you leaving?” Harry asks. It sounds like an accusation, and, well, it's supposed to be one. It's fine if he was, except for how it's completely _not_ because it feels like he's sneaking off without waking them, cheapening everything that's happened so far, making it to look like a mistake. Harry had expected to wake up just like they'd fallen asleep, with Liam between him and Louis. And then if Liam had wanted to go, it would have been fine, because at least he'd have told them he was going then, given them a reason.

“Yeah,” Liam says, shifting on his feet. “I, uh...”

Harry waits, tightening his arms around himself. This isn't what he wanted.

“I just need a second. I need a second to think,” he finishes finally.

Harry nods. He can understand that, definitely. But Liam leaving at the crack of dawn doesn't sit well. “Do you regret last night?” he asks, staring intently at the floor.

He feels sick to his stomach and he doesn't know if he wants the answer to his question, but if that's the case, if Liam regrets it, then he's going to have to face it sooner or later. Might as well be now.

Liam's answer doesn't come right away, not a definite, heartbreaking 'yes', nor a certain, warming 'no'. Harry looks up at him, and finds his eyes are tightly shut, his jaw clenched.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, only a little surprised how much it hurts. He digs his fingers into his biceps and wonders how he's supposed to tell Louis, how he's supposed to break it to him that everything's changed now and there's no going back.

“No,” Liam says, then he's right up in Harry's face, gripping at his hips and saying, “No, shit, Harry, of course not. I just needed a chance to sort everything out in my head.”

Harry sinks into his chest, groaning. “God, you are a stupid shit,” he says, his words mostly muffled by the hoodie ― it's his hoodie, he realizes, but it smells like Louis. “What did you think would happen when we woke up and you were gone?”

Liam is shaking his head, squeezing Harry's hips. “I didn't. I didn't think, Haz, everything's so...”

Harry unwinds his arms then, wrapping them around Liam's waist. He sighs and shakes his own head. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know. But just don't do that next time, okay? Don't just leave.”

“You were sleeping,” Liam replies, like that's even a reason.

“So wake me up,” Harry says firmly.

Nodding, Liam says, “Okay, yeah. I didn't mean to–”

“I know. I know you didn't.”

Harry pulls him in tighter, winds his arms around Liam's neck and just hugs him. “This is really complicated,” Liam mutters into his throat, and Harry nods.

He keeps his hands on Liam's face as he leans away, forcing him to keep his eyes on Harry's as he says, “But it's worth it.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees.

Harry presses forward to kiss him, just lightly, nothing overwhelming. “So worth it.”

“Yeah,” Liam repeats, grinning.

Harry takes a step away, lets Liam go. “Go sort your overly large head out.”

The glare he tries to give Harry fails miserably, considering he's still smiling.

Harry catches Liam's hand before he gets to the door, stopping him one last time. “But come back.”

“I will.”

―

It's difficult to fall back asleep. He knows that Liam means what he said, but he can't help worrying. He wants to snuggle, but Louis is still sleeping, and Harry is grateful for that. He doesn't want to worry him.

Liam will be back.

―

Something cold and wet tickles Harry's neck and he tries to shake it away, but it doesn't leave. He slaps at it and hits more. Hair, he realizes, wet, cold, drippy hair. He grabs a handful and twists himself around, snuggling up to the warm, clean-smelling body.

Liam.

“You smell nice,” Harry says, grinning.

“You stink,” Liam replies.

“Do not,” he shoots back, but he does, probably. Sex never smells as good the morning after.

“Stop talking so loudly,” Louis shouts from behind Harry.

Harry shoves his face into Liam's chest to laugh, body shaking with it. Louis kicks him, and Harry reaches back to get a hold of his arm, to pull him closer.

“Wake up, Lou-Lou, it's time for breakfast,” Liam says, reaching over Harry to scrunch up Louis' horrible bed head even worse than it already is.

Harry waits for Louis' reply to the horrible nickname, but surprisingly, there isn't one. He feels Louis' nose skim over the back of his neck, up into his hair, and then he just stays there, breathing. Liam shifts closer, 'til he's face to face with Harry, and nobody moves for a long time. Not until they have to, stomachs rumbling and arms going tingly from laying on them.

Thankfully, Liam was smart enough to bring food that wouldn't get cold.


End file.
